I’m not quite sure how else to go about this, I mean seriously, what’s the fucking dealy-o here? Is Bellville populated entirely with proctologists? Why in the name of sweet, six-pound-four-ounce baby Jesus must you guys drive right up my arsehole every fucking day? Why?! WHYTHEFUCK?!

[With the notable exception of Supa Dan, he’s a legend and he drives just fine.]

At first it was cute, I just thought maybe people in Cape Town were really friendly and were getting up close and personal to come and say hello or something.

‘Look honey,’ I used to say, ‘that man whose parents are cousins has driven up to say hallo! What a friendly chap!’

Next thing I noticed was that 90% of the folk driving up my arse didn’t have regular CA license plates, they had these screwy ‘CY’ plates and all drove white Cortinas with sheep-fur seats.

‘Who the fuck are these people,’ I remember asking my boss one day, ‘these fuckers that drive up your arse all the time with the CY number plates?’

If I had to draw up a list of my favourite ways of being tortured, having a buncha mouth-breathing Neanderthals drive right up my fucking arse every day would rate right up there with being raped with an electric drill or forced at gun point to watch a three-hour marathon of the Ellen Degeneres show.

Here, for the benefit of the inhabitants of HELLville, is a list of reasons why I fucking hate it when you drive up my arse:

1. I’m already doing 140. How fucking fast do you want to fucking drive?! Yes, the speedo on your Cortina goes to 160, well done. Please only reserve that speed for when the police are chasing you.

2. It’s just not fucking polite. We aren’t dogs for chrissake, it feels like you’re sniffing my backside.

3. Why the fuck are you in such a hurry? Struggling with your time management skills a little? Buy a watch and drive like a human.

4. Do you have any idea how quickly you can end up smeared in wet chunks all over the highway at the speed you guys drive at? I’m being dead serious here, I’ve been in an accident on a highway, a woman in the lane next to us blew a tyre and in less than 3 seconds, 5 cars had smashed to pieces, one of them being mine.

Life, my friends, is a precious and fragile thing and believe me, once you’ve ended yours and possibly the lives of your passengers or the other people on the road, the last thing you’ll be saying at the gates of hell will be, “Ja, I’m a bit bummed I’m dead now hey, but JASSIS! Did you see check how fast I was klapping it!”